


Hungry Eyes

by elliex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Crowley crushes on Sam Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Gambling, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Singing, curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch's curse forces Dean to sing his feelings to Castiel. A supernatural betting pool is revealed.</p><p>Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW, etc. </p><p>"Hungry Eyes" by Eric Carmen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry Eyes

\+ + + +

He’d had enough when she’d murmured against his stomach, “I don’t believe it. _The_ Winchester – lock, stock, but no barrel.” 

That’d been it. Dean had leapt out of bed and shrugged back into his jeans.

“Aw, don’t leave. I can cast a spell if you’d like.” 

“Shit. You’re a fucking witch.” He paused, his pants half-zipped. “That’s how you know my last name.”

She smirked at him, which only pissed him off more. He should have known she was a witch when he’d seen her in that biker bar. A tall, leggy blonde, Helena was simply too hot to be human. 

His discomfort increased hundredfold when the cat that had been making him sneeze all night suddenly morphed into a young man, one who was finding Dean’s situation very, very funny. 

Helena cackled at his obvious irritation; so did her familiar. 

“Shut the fuck up or I will end you,” he snarled. 

“Whatever, sugar,” Helena drawled. “Come on – Oh, wait, we tried that…” she snarked wickedly.

Her familiar laughed louder. 

“You too, nine lives,” he snapped, then muttered to himself about how he’d always known cats were creepy, what with the staring eyes and all. 

This was fucking embarrassing. Shit like this did not happen to him. He was Dean fucking Winchester; this was what he _did_. 

Maybe Helena realized that he was about to pull out his gun and start shooting, or maybe she wasn’t one-hundred percent grade A bitch. All he cared about was that she suddenly stopped laughing and shooed the now-furry-again cat out of the room. 

She shut the door and leaned against it. She watched him for a moment as he put his watch back on and jammed his feet into his shoes.

“Dean, get a grip,” she scolded. “It happens to everyone.”

“Not to me,” he retorted, pulling his shirt over his eyes. And, of course, he thought to himself, it had to happen with a freaking witch who he was pretty damn sure would not be keeping this to herself. 

“Aw, come on,” she coaxed. “Even I can tell it’s not a performance issue – it’s one of desire.”

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. “You might be a psycho witch, but you’re also hot,” he replied before he realized he’s spoken. Dammit, he thought. Don’t compliment the psycho who’s going to make your life hell. 

“Yes,” she conceded, “but I’m obviously not what you were looking for tonight.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door, clearly intending to make her move.

“Stop,” Helena called out. Dean froze in his tracks; he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t make his muscles move, not even to talk. Dammit, he thought. She freaking mojo-ed me. 

Helena sauntered towards him and walked around him, eyeing him up and down. 

“You’re a popular topic of conversation on the rumor mill,” she mused. “People – and creatures – wonder about you, Dean. I mean, really, when was the last time you even got laid?”

He still couldn’t move, not even to clench his jaw in the aggravation he was feeling. “You’re a hot piece of ass, as you well know,” she continued, watching him closely. “Yet you spend all of your time with your brother and an angel – you’re not fucking one of them, are you?”

She watched his pupils flare and laughed delightedly. “You are, aren’t you? Or, you want to… Hmmm…” Helena tapped her chin with her index finger, pondering Dean’s frozen expression. “I bet you can’t even admit it to yourself yet.” 

She snapped her fingers, releasing Dean from the freeze spell. 

“You bitch,” he snarled, closing the gap between him and the witch. 

“Back off, princess, or I’ll freeze you again,” Helena threatened. “It’s not my fault you’re a fan of incest – or would it be called _win_ cest in your case?”

“Don’t talk about my brother like that. Or my—” Dean’s words caught in his throat as he realized what he’d been about to say.

Helena laughed delightedly. “Your what – your angel? Tell you what, sugar, I’m going to give you a little gift that’ll help with your little problem.”

A sense of dread filled Dean. What was she going to do? Curse him with an incurable boner? Make him a girl? Make him a eunuch? Oh, God, he had to stop thinking – what if she could read his mind? He didn’t want to give her any ideas. 

She laughed at the emotions showing on his face. “You are an expressive one, aren’t you?”

His jaw tightened in response. 

“Never fear, Dean. I’m not going to ruin your life – just help you out a bit. It’s non-fatal and will run its course,” she promised.

“How?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“You’ll find out,” she said sweetly, reaching over and pulling out a few strands of his hair.

He stared at the witch, his hand twitching over his gun. He really, really wanted to shoot her, but his better judgment told him just to leave and get a foolproof hex bag pronto. 

She opened the door and waved him through. “Now, know that if you come back after me, I’m going to release the big guns on you.”

Dean didn’t hesitate as he headed out into the night. “Goodnight, sugar,” Helena called after him. Dean didn’t respond. He just hauled ass to the Impala. 

+

“Sam!” he yelled bursting into the motel room. Sam startled so badly that he knocked his coffee over.

“Dammit, Dean!” 

Sam’s tone brought Dean up short, but he gave his younger brother a death glare. “Seriously, Sam? I scared you that badly? If that’s the case then you are seriously off your game, little brother.”

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, using a dirty towel to wipe up the mess. “Why the hell did you come running in here like that, anyway?”

“I think I got hexed.”

Sam’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “You think you got hexed? You don’t know?”

Dean felt his face and neck flush. “Yes and no.” He rolled his eyes at his brother’s amused expression. “Just make me a hex bag, will ya?”

“I can try, Dean, but we don’t have all the ingredients. I can go out first thing in the morning, but shops won’t open before 9 a.m. around here, and it’s only 1 a.m.”

“Can you just do what you can, Sam? I don’t know what that crazy witch did to me.”

“How did you piss her off, anyway?”

“Long story,” Dean muttered, staring carefully at the wall over his brother’s head. 

“Huh,” Sam remarked, watching his brother engage in his usual avoidance behavior. “Another love ‘em and leave ‘em scenario?”

“Something like that. Just hurry, would ya?”

“Okay, okay,” Sam conceded. “Get in a salt circle and stay there till I’m done. I’ve got to get some stuff out of the car first.”

+

It only took Helena moments to complete the spell, and once it was cast, she allowed herself to collapse into a fit of giggles. Oh, how she wished she could see this unfold first-hand. 

She picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. “Crowley? Put me down for five hundred on the angel.” She paused, listening to the demon say something. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m changing my original bet.”

+

Crowley hung up the phone and ordered his minion to change Helena’s bet. “She’s trading moose for angel boy,” he said with a chuckle. 

He surveyed the board and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Oh Dean, this is shaping up to be the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“Get the champagne ready, boys,” he ordered, snapping his fingers at some sub-demons who were setting up the party.

+

By 3 a.m., Sam was asleep in the chair he’d parked near the motel room’s door. Dean was half asleep in another chair, wearing Sam’s half-assed hex bag and still surrounded by a circle of salt. Each held a gun in his lap. 

Something startled Dean awake, and he nearly fell out of the chair. A strong arm grasped his and kept him from losing his balance. 

He looked up into the angel’s brilliant blue eyes. As always, the air hummed with electricity; part of Dean wanted to see just how strong the shock would be. 

“Dean.” Cas’s gravelly voice filled Dean with – wait, what was that? Dean couldn’t identify what he was feeling; this was something new. Reacting to Cas… well, okay, he was used to that even if he hadn’t admitted it to anyone. But what the hell was this? It was like something trying to come out of him. 

He opened his mouth to ask for help, but instead heard himself sing:

"I've been meaning to tell you

I've got this feelin' that won't subside

I look at you and I fantasize"

Dean snapped his mouth shut. Cas was staring at him. Sam, who of course had woken up now, was also staring at him. _Shit_. And with that thought, Dean ran out of the room. 

“Sam, why was Dean singing?” Cas asked seriously.

“Um… I don’t know.” Sam looked perplexed and ran his hands through his ever-growing hair. “I guess it’s the spell –”

“Spell?”

“Yeah, he came in earlier, yelling about being hexed. I guess the bag and the salt didn’t work, but why would a witch hex him with singing?”

“Has he been singing all night?”

“No – only to …” Sam’s voice trailed off, and he looked at Cas in surprise. “Only to you,” he finished. “What does that mean?”

“I will find out,” Cas said. A heartbeat later, Sam was all alone in the room. 

+

Almost immediately, Sam’s cell phone rang, and he answered it, hoping the unknown number was Dean calling from a payphone. “Dean?” he asked hopefully.

“Not even close, pet,” purred Crowley’s voice.

“Crowley! Are you behind this?”

Crowley laughed. “Moosey, I’m calling as a personal favor. Dean is your brother, after all – it’s only fair that you be let in on this action.”

“What action?” Sam asked, completely confused. 

“Weeellll,” Crowley drawled out. “The short version is that there’s a betting pool as to whether or not Dean and angel boy finally hook up.”

“Dean and Cas?” Sam asked. A betting pool? The supernatural world didn’t have better things to do?

“Yes – well, actually, it was Dean with either you or Cas, but smart bet’s on the angel. Tonight’s the big tournament. Go big or go home. The pot’s huge, and I’m giving you a chance to make good on your brother’s bi-curious repression.”

Sam didn’t say anything. His genius brain was working out the odds, and the extenuating circumstances, like the hex and the singing and the look on Cas’s face… 

“Moosey?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Hold on.” Sam opened his wallet and flipped through and did some quick calculations. “Now, what level of hooking up are we talking about?”

“Full-on consummation, pet.”

Sam paused for only a moment. Might as well go for broke, he thought. “I’m in for a thousand.”

“Ah, Moosey. You make my heart swell – or is it my heart? Maybe it’s my – ”

Sam shut him down before the King of Hell could finish that comment. “Goodbye, Crowley. Send me my winnings or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

Sam laughed to himself and shook his head. Man, was he going to enjoy lording that money over Dean’s head for the next twenty years. Cas’s too. Maybe he’d get them an engraved waffle iron… 

+

Dean ran as fast as he could, heading into the nearby woods, but he couldn’t outrun an angel – his angel. Cas appeared before him, bringing Dean up short, and the hunter fell to his knees, gasping for breath. 

“Dean,” Cas said somberly. “Why are you singing? What did the witch do to you?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer and was horrified to hear himself singing again:  


"With these hungry eyes

One look at you and I can't disguise

I've got hungry eyes

I feel the magic between you and I"

Dean snapped his mouth shut, clenching his jaw so tightly that he expected it to break. He was not singing any more of this crap tonight. This was humiliating. He couldn’t even look at Cas, though he could feel the angel’s eyes on him. Cas came closer, and Dean shuddered as the angel touched his forehead.

“It’s some kind of truth spell,” Cas deduced. “But why are you singing? We could just talk about this.” Cas slid his hand along Dean’s face, caressing the hunter’s strong jaw. “I feel the magic too, you know.”

Dean threw a shocked look at Cas – What the fuck? But when he opened his mouth to ask, what came out? 

"I want to hold you so hear me out

I want to show you what love's all about"

“Then do so,” Cas said, pulling Dean up to a standing position and kissing him, hard and fast, swallowing the next words Dean was about to sing. The hunter pulled his angel closer, and deepened the kiss. Dean wasn’t sure if the crackling in the sky was lightning or the connection that had always hummed between them setting off sparks. 

Cas drew back slightly. “Well, did you show me?” he asked, literal as always.

But when Dean tried to say something, anything, lyrics once again came pouring out:

"Now I've got you in my sights

With those hungry eyes"

Dean rolled his eyes, completely exasperated with himself. He finally settled for shaking his head no. He looked around and assured himself that they were, in fact, in a small grove of trees. He could hear the rushing water of a small brook and felt like this was as much privacy as they could hope for. 

Here goes nothin’, he thought to himself, pulling Cas to him again. As they kissed, he removed the angel’s trenchcoat and tossed it on the ground. That was all it took. They both frenziedly unbuttoned and unzipped until their clothes were a pile on the ground. 

This time, Dean willingly opened his mouth and sang the most important lyrics while looking directly in Cas’s eyes:  


"I need you to see

This love was meant to be"

Cas smiled. “It’s taken you long enough.” 

“What?” Dean gasped. “I’ve been waiting on _you_.”

“Tell yourself what you need to, Dean.” Cas replied, navigating his hunter onto the pile of clothes and showing Dean his own appetite. 

There were no performance issues of any kind. 

+

When the night sky erupted in an unprecedented and unforecasted lightning storm, Crowley’s party truly began in earnest. 

He texted Sam: “Want to join, Moosey? Fireworks for Dean and Cas.”

“Just send me my money,” Sam texted back.

“Ah, well,” Crowley said to himself, disappointed. “Guess fireworks twice in one night would have been too much to ask for.” He snapped his fingers, sending Sam’s winnings to the Winchesters’ motel room. 

+

Dean got back to the room around 9 a.m. His lips were puffy, and he was sore all over - in a good way. He was pretty sure he had at least one hickey too, which meant Cas was staking a claim since the angel could have easily healed him. Which was all kind of hot, he mused. 

He heard water running. “Dean, that you?” Sam called out.

“No, Sam. I’m a demon here to kill you while you bathe,” Dean snarked.

“Ha ha. I’ll be out in a minute.” Sam paused before adding, “I left something for you on the table.”

Dean walked over to where their research materials were scattered everywhere. There was an envelope with “Dean” written on it in big, bold letters. He opened it and found a thank you card inside; the message, in Sam’s careful handwriting, read “Crowley and I thank you for finally hooking up with Cas. You made us a lot of money. Here’s your take.” 

Dean looked back into the envelope and found a brand-new cassette copy of “Hungry Eyes.” 

His face red, he headed straight for the bathroom, where he could hear Sam laughing hysterically. 

“How’d you like your present?” Sam called.

“You’re going to pay for that, Sammy. For a long damn time, starting now,” and Dean calmly flushed the toilet, flooding the shower with ice cold water. 

Sam’s scream elicited a smile of satisfaction from his older brother. 

“Oh, and, uh, we’re listening to that tape all the way to Boise, dude. And every time you hear that song, you think about what I did to Cas – and what he did to me. Man, sex with an angel is _ah-mazing_.”

Sam stuck his head out from behind the curtain. “Okay, okay. I get it. Please stop talking about you and Cas and sex – please?” He gave Dean his best pleading-puppy-dog look, but his brother was leaning against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, and didn’t look like he was buying it. 

But then Dean paused and seemed to consider. “Maybe,” he answered. “Are you _really_ sorry?” he arched an eyebrow at his little brother, as he’d done when they were younger, and he’d had to chastise Sam. 

“Oh, yes,” Sam nodded his head emphatically and as sincerely as possible. “I’m sorry. What happens with you and Cas is your business and your business only.”

“That’s right,” Dean said. “Unless I decide to share dirty details with my ‘bro,” and he grinned devilishly at his brother before flushing the toilet again. 

His brother’s scream followed him into the room. 

“Cas?” Dean prayed.

The angel appeared and immediately pulled Dean into his arms, kissing him soundly until a now clean and clothed Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Hey, Cas,” the younger Winchester said. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas replied gravely. 

Dean took Cas by the hand, intertwining their fingers and grinned mischievously at his brother. “We are going to get an awesome greasy breakfast because we worked up enormous appetites last night. Care to join us, Sammy?”

“Uh… thanks but no. I think I have research still to do.” Or my eyes to gouge out, Sam added silently.

“Suit yourself. Be ready to roll out in an hour.” He tugged at Cas’s hand. “Come on, Cas, let’s go.”

“But, Dean, I don’t eat—”

“You’re ruining our exit, man. Just go with it,” Dean muttered as they walked out the door.

Sam sank into the chair and put his head into his hands. Why, oh why did he tell Dean about the bet? He always had to take it one step too far and now he’d be lucky if he didn’t wind up with his head naired… again. Maybe he could at least dispose of the cassette, but he couldn’t find it anywhere. 

Oh, no, he said to himself. 

+

Six hours later, still two long hours from Boise and a terrorizing poltergeist, Dean grinned at his brother. 

“I am really loving this tape, aren’t you, Sammy? Oh, and hey, did I tell you that Cas is flexible in ways that would just freaking blow your mind --"

Sam shrunk into the passenger seat and tried to will himself deaf. Maybe the poltergeist’ll kill me, he thought optimistically.


End file.
